Posts Tagged ‘ MYSTERY ’

SHE DANCES ACROSS THE PACIFIC WATERS

THE HUMAN RACE

 

A WOMAN TO BEHOLD

From her euphoric whispers

come a redolent breath

that blinds the senses

evoking intimate thoughts.

 

As she moves across

the Pacific waters

stirring the tides,

the sea rolls in ecstasy.

 

The swells become waves

crowned by crests as

crispy white as stars

in the blackest night.

 

At day’s early light,

they dance endlessly

raising their mighty arms

in graceful pirouettes.

 

Boots LeBaron

 

ODE TO BERT LEBARON, HOLLYWOOD STUNTMAN

THE HUMAN RACE  

 

ODE TO MY DAD, A SWASHBUCKLING ACTOR-STUNTMAN


     

 

Buried under piles of paper, I had just found the eulogy I had written for my dad, Bert LeBaron, who had died under mysterious circumstances on a handball court at the Hollywood Y.M.C.A. on March 3, 1956. At his memorial service, Rev. John C. Donnell had read these words before a packed house inside a musty chapel at Callanan mortuary in Hollywood, California:

 

     By instinct I hold back the tears, for I am a man of twenty-three years. And a man should be strong physically and emotionally. That’s what he taught me and that’s what I believe.

     He was my dad. He’s dead now, but his lessons are beginning to come to life. We all make mistakes. But today we remember his good deeds.

     It’s hard to be a poor man and a proud one, too, but he was both.

     A man’s body broken down into the chemical elements is worth 98 cents, but his soul, personality, and experiences with life can’t be bought at any price.

     He had been poor, rich, strong, young, and old. He had seen war, death, life, happiness and misery. He had loved and had been loved. He was truly a man in every sense of the word.

     His friends respected him for himself, not for his material position in life. I loved him for the irrefutable love and respect he gave me. He was warm and understanding. I felt secure in his presence.

     My dad was in the motion picture business for over 35 years. It was his life and he loved it. He was part of Hollywood and Hollywood was part of him. He was always waiting for the “big break” that never came. “Things are quiet now, but wait till next month!” he’d say.

     He was a great athlete, active in sports all of his life. His reflexes and coordination were beyond reproach. I know, because a week before his death, he beat me at handball. He died at the game.

     An adventurous soul and an aged shell cannot survive together in this life. If there is a life beyond death, he will have his young body and will be unburdened once again… I’m grateful to have had a father like Bert LeBaron, Hollywood stuntman.  

 

                          Signed: Boots

PELICANS IN FLIGHT: A PACIFIC-OCEAN SIGHT

THE HUMAN RACE

FLIGHT OF THE PELICANS

 

Thank God for the pelicans.

There they go.

All eight of them in a perfect row.

Skimming across the ocean

like bombers on a mission.

Whoops!

A trailer breaks off,

gains altitude,

then dives,

retracting its wings

just before the jarring,

splashing impact.

Curr-plunk!

Who designed these

magnificent feathered acrobats?

These clowns with big noses?

Suddenly, it bobs to the surface,

and floats for a moment

swallowing its meal.

Finally, with some effort,

it flaps those large,

powerful wings,

and like a

an ancient clipper ship,

lifts off.

Seeming to defy gravity

it gains altitude, circles,

then heads in the direction of its flock

which is lost in the distance.

Where does this

beautiful creature get

it’s navigational skills?

Just smart, I reckon.

 

Boots LeBaron

 

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